


Dial

by majesticartax



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phone Sex, Phone Sex Operator Kageyama Tobio
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2019-06-11 04:12:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15307242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticartax/pseuds/majesticartax
Summary: It started as a dare.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was just supposed to be a little drabble. I'll end the lamenting there.
> 
> But this au was requested by an anon over on tumblr! So, anon, this is for you <3 thank you for this gift of an idea. 
> 
> \--
> 
> Also. I think it's very important to point out that the working title of this was 'Ace Leche' thanks to my dear friend being the funniest fucking person in the world and my partner for being the hero we all need.

As most epic tales begin, with trivialities and the utmost insignificance and staggering dumbassery, this one started as a dare.

Three roommates being stupid, getting tipsy, watching really bad late night TV. Shitty infomercials and all.

“I can’t believe we still pay for this garbage,” Kenma mumbles to the other two guys, getting up from the couch that he and Shouyou are sharing as some spokesman for a magic blender breezes onto the screen. “Need something from the kitchen?”

“Well, once Kei figures out how to get the news on his laptop, or, like, his—” Shouyou burps,"—phone, we can cancel the cable. And I’ll take another,” he says to Kenma, brandishing his almost-empty beer bottle.

“Local news is a dying art,” Kei replies flatly from an armchair without taking his eyes away from the television.

“Yeah, and for a reason. I think you and my grandma are the only two people left in the world who still read the newspaper.”   

“I like the crosswords.” Kei takes a sip of his beer.

“You’re the most boring person ever.”

“Your grandma doesn’t think so.”

Shouyou doesn’t dignify that with a verbal answer, just half-assedly lobs a pillow at the chair. “Seriously, is there anything decent on at this time?” he asks, raising the remote and flipping through the channels. “I could just be watching netflix in my room.”

“No one’s stopping you.”

Shouyou flops over, face down onto the couch and lets the remote fall from his hand onto the floor. A commercial for one of those sexy phonelines starts playing. Shouyou didn’t know those were still a thing. But sex sells, he supposes. So why not.

“What are you watching?” Kenma asks, returning from the kitchen and pressing a chilled bottle of beer to the back of Hinata’s neck.

Hinata shrieks at the cold, grabbing for the bottle. Kenma sits on the backs of his legs.

“You know, I always told myself that I’d try calling one of those things if I ever found someone’s lost cellphone,” Shouyou says, gesturing to the TV and pulling his legs out from under Kenma to sit up and open his beer. “Before returning it, I mean.”

“Why would you do that to someone?” Kei asks.

Shouyou scoffs defensively. “They always say the first call is free! Or at least the first five or ten minutes or whatever.”

“That isn’t the point, you monster.”

“And if it’s free, why not just use your own phone,” Kenma points out.

“I was just making conversation, god,” Hinata mumbles into his beer before taking several large gulps. “It was years ago when I got the idea. I’m not actually that curious now.”

Kei snorts. “Yes you are.”

“I am not.”

“It might actually be good for you,” Kei continues to needle, “what with your recent rough patch.”

“I haven’t had a—”

“Dry spell.”

“It isn’t!—”

“Celibacy.”

“Hey!”

“Involuntary chastity,” Kenma joins in.

“This is bullying!”

Kei and Kenma both laugh, and Shouyou does too, despite the heat in his face and the undeniable truth to their snark. He knows better than anyone that his sex life has been… well, _stagnant_ is a gross word—

“I prefer ‘sexual hibernation’,” he says.

“Yeah, well I can hear you waking the bear every goddamn night,” Kei mutters.

Shouyou gasps. “You absolutely can _not!”_ He looks to Kenma for affirmation.

“I’m not saying anything,” Kenma says with a shake of his head. “Except the walls might be thinner than you think.”

“Alright, that’s it,” Shouyou declares, killing the rest of his beer in two seconds flat to a chorus of snickering. He dramatically wipes his mouth with the back of his arm before standing and grumbling, “I’m going to bed. You two are disgusting.”

Shouyou shoves Kei’s head while he walks by and starts to make his way down the hall, but then—

“I dare you to call.”

Hinata stops and turns, making a face. “You dare me?” he asks incredulously. “What is this, summer camp?”

“What’s the matter?” Kei grins. “It’s a free call. What are you scared of?”

Hinata’s eyes flick back and forth between the two blond men, lips parted and ready to argue. “I’m not _scared_ ,” he snaps, “it’s just stupid.”

“Mm, I don’t know,” Kei smirks, taking a sip of beer, “sounds like you’re scared. Or at the very least, _boring._ And I should know, right?”

Shouyou feels his temper start to flare. That instinct to explode into the call of a challenge. But one thing he’s learned in the two years since college that he has been living with these two is not to take the bait—

“I’ll do your chores for a week,” Kei adds.

“You’re so on,” Shouyou says, stomping back into the room.

He hasn’t learned shit.

“Alright,” he huffs, dropping heavily onto the center of the carpet and pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“Nope, give it to me,” Kei says, leaning forward and stretching out a lanky arm towards Shouyou, “you can’t be trusted with choosing.”

“What does that even mean!” Shouyou cries.

“You might pretend to call,” Kenma points out. “Seems like something you’d do.”

“ _Ughh_ ,” Shouyou throws his phone at his roommate, “fine. Be gentle.”

The tall blond spends a good five minutes searching through god-knows how many sketchy-ass websites with Shouyou fidgeting away on the floor, wondering what fate will soon befall him.

Also wondering what sketchy-ass websites of his own that he didn’t close that Kei is now perusing. Judging.  

He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous. It’s not like the person on the other end will know who he is. He can’t see him. Shouyou will be completely in control of the conversation. He’s the customer, after all.

“Alright, here,” Kei says, tossing the phone back to Shouyou. He fumbles the phone and then snatches it off the floor and looks down at the screen— 

“ _Uwah!_ It’s ringing!”

“Like I said, you can’t be trusted.”

Hunching down into himself as much as possible, Shouyou brings the phone to his ear. He’s starting to sweat and his heart thumps faster and faster as the seconds tick by. He’s not exactly familiar with this, uh, _genre_ of entertainment, so he’s not entirely sure what to expect. Will there be some buffer of a menu with options? Like _press one for gay_ or _press two for nervous first-timers_ , or will it go straight to some person with no idea how mortified Shouyou is—

 _“Hi._ ”

Oh. No menu. Maybe Kei bypassed that option. And the deep, rumbling voice uttering that single word suggests his roommate took Shouyou’s actual sexuality into consideration.

How fucking sweet of him.

Shouyou feels his eyes get really big and he jerks his head up, his gaze frantic and unfocused with pure panic when it lands on his grinning roommate.

“ _Hello?”_ the low voice says with a whole lot of annoyance, followed by an exasperated sigh. _“Listen, I charge for prank calls you stupid shit—”_

“Ah yes! Hi!” Shouyou blurts. “Hi! Hello!”

Kei smacks a hand over his mouth and starts vibrating with laughter. Kenma just falls over on the couch. Slain by Shouyou’s awkwardness.

Shouyou clears his throat.

 _“Hi,”_ the man on the other end says again. Somehow no less annoyed. _“First time.”_

It’s not a question.

“Y-yeah. Yes,” Shouyou stammers, his face getting hotter and hotter. “Sorry.”

_“What are you apologizing for?”_

“I don’t know!” Shouyou snaps.

But the man on the other end actually laughs into the phone. It isn’t loud; it’s more like an amused breath. Something Shouyou finds very goddamn irritating.

“What’s so funny?” He bites.

And the man just laughs again. “ _You are_ ,” he replies.

Shouyou’s jaw drops. Is this flirting? Is this what flirting is? He isn’t sure, but it feels mean-spirited. He aims a look at his roommate. What kind of abusive bullshit service did he call?

Shouyou sucks in a breath to fire back an insult and maybe hang up on this turd, but then—

“ _Sorry,_ ” the voice rumbles. _“It’s cute_.”

Suddenly the warmth in Shouyou’s face isn’t from anger. He makes a noise. Don’t ask him to make it again because it eeks up involuntarily from the depths of his soul.

This earns him a guffaw from the armchair and a snort muffled against the couch cushions.

He jumps to his feet and flees the room, slamming the door to his bedroom with a victorious huff to himself before he realizes what his departure must have looked like. Absconding with a sex worker on the other end of the line. He swears that wasn’t his intention.

“I’m not cute,” he mutters, sitting stiffly on the edge of his bed.

 _“I don’t think it’s up to you to decide_ ,” the voice replies. “ _So what are you looking for tonight?”_

“Uh...” Shouyou swallows. He can’t tell this guy this was a dare, though this probably isn’t the first time he’s had to deal with that. Still. It seems rude to admit it. Invalidating to his profession or something. But he has no idea how to really play this, so he just swallows again awkwardly, wiping a sweaty palm on his comforter. “What... what do you recommend?”

The man breathes out that laugh again. And Shouyou realizes that he likes it. Maybe. “ _Tell you what,_ ” he says, “ _we can start slow, okay?_ ”

Shouyou licks his lips and straightens his spine, like a student ready to pay attention. “Okay.” Slow sounds pretty good.

Actually. Anything this guy says sounds pretty good.

Oh god.

 _“What’s your name?_ ”

“Hinata,” he says quietly. “What’s yours?”

There’s a pause. And then,

“ _I don’t usually give out my real name_ , _but you’re too terrified to be a creep. I’m Kageyama.”_

Bullshit, Shouyou thinks. If ever there was a ploy to make clients feel special, that’s definitely it. Though he doesn’t think he hates the idea of being treated special. But he says,

“Bullshit.”

_“Excuse me?”_

“Am I really supposed to believe that you don’t usually give out your real name? Or if that even _is_ your real name?”

“ _Why would I lie?”_ Shouyou can hear the scowl on Kageyama’s face.

“Isn’t that your job?” he asks defensively.

“ _My job is to get you off, dumbass. So unless you have some kind of lying fetish it’s not my job to lie to you.”_

Shouyou’s heart starts to beat even faster at Kageyama’s assertion of his job description. And he’s not wrong; Kageyama is under the full impression that Shouyou called him to help him get off. And that puts a new heat in his face. But in response, Shouyou says,

“Prove it.”

_“Prove what?”_

“Prove that you don’t use your real name.”

Another pause. _“How the hell would I do that?”_

Shouyou shrugs. “What name do you usually use?”

“ _That defeats the purpose of telling you my real name.”_

“Does not.”

_“Does so.”_

“Well then I don’t believe you.”

Silence.

Shouyou sighs. “Okay fine, I believe you.”

“ _Oikawa.”_

Shouyou blinks. “Huh?”

_“The name I usually use. It’s Oikawa.”_

“Oikawa… like, Oikawa Tooru? The volleyball player?”

_“Um... no. Shut up.”_

Snickering, Shouyou says, “that’s an interesting choice. He is kinda hot.”

_“Don’t read too much into it.”_

“Do you look like him or something?”

A flustered and unmistakably disgusted scoff blasts Shouyou in the ear. _“No!”_

Shouyou giggles at the odd reaction. “Okay, geez, sorry,” he says. “Are you a fan?”

The response Shouyou gets is much less dramatic, but still a little aggressive. _“Hardly,”_ Kageyama snaps.

Shouyou flops flat onto his back. He can feel his nerves dissipating. Mostly because this guy is a fucking weirdo. “Do you play volleyball?”

A sigh. Then, “ _sometimes. I used to play a lot more than I do now._ ”

“What happened?”

_“I got a job talking to idiots on the phone.”_

“You’re not very good at this, are you?” Shouyou asks, frowning.

 _“I do alright_.”

“You’re kind of mean.”

_“Did I read you wrong?”_

“What?” Shouyou sits up.

 _“Well, you haven’t hung up yet_ , _so you can’t be having a terrible time with me._ ”

He’s got him there.  “I... guess.”

_“So, Hinata, what are you doing?”_

Shouyou feels a little shiver at the way Kageyama says his name. He dropped his voice a bit lower for his question – not much, but it’s effective. Maybe he _is_ good at this. Shouyou almost regrets not offering his given name. “I’m... um,” he looks around his room, wondering if there’s a correct answer, “sitting on my bed?”

 _“That’s a good start.”_ And there’s that deep, airy laugh again. Shouyou makes the executive decision that he absolutely does, in fact, like it. And he thinks that maybe the whole atmosphere of this phone call is getting to him a little; knowing the reason for this line of work is worming its way under his skin. Sinking into his unconscious and raising his temperature a degree or two… moving blood into places that is kind of concerning since he’s not doing this for its intended purpose.

“S-should I be doing something, like, specific?” Shouyou licks his lips, half wishing that the other man would give him some kind of direction. But the other half of him wants to know what _he’s_ doing. Purely out of a curiosity for his profession. What does a phone sex operator _do_ during these calls? His taxes? Video games? Clean his bathroom? So he blurts,

“What are you wearing?”

Shouyou’s eyes fly wide and he waves his hand frantically in front of himself, as if Kageyama can see him. “No! Wait! That’s not what I meant! I-I meant to ask—I mean—I wanted to ask what you were doing, not wearing!” Shouyou immediately curls in on himself in shame, falling over onto his side and covering his face with his hand. “Oh my god…”

But the other man seems unfazed, though incredibly amused at Shouyou’s embarrassment. _“I’m wearing grey sweatpants,”_ he says with an audible, teasing smile. “ _Sorry it’s nothing sexier. It’s laundry day.”_

Shouyou peeks out from behind his hand. He doesn’t think it’s necessary to apologize for that. It... sounds pretty good to him, especially if—

“Is that all?” Shouyou squeaks.

 _“Mmhm,”_ the other man hums. “ _I prefer to be comfortable.”_

Shouyou chews his lip. He has an image of the man in his head; it’s impossibly gorgeous, he knows, but he can’t help but conjure this portrait of the man of his dreams with that husky voice droning back at him. He almost doesn’t want to break the illusion (christ, how did he get caught up in this so fast? Wasn’t he just being all butthurt about it?) but he has to ask,

“Um, what do you look like?”

And he almost wants to take it back; he swears he isn’t that shallow. But, again, this probably isn’t the first time Kageyama has been asked that question, and he probably has some canned, stock answer that gets him a decent response. So, whatever, he can lie if he—

“ _I’m, um, tall. I guess,”_ Kageyama says hesitantly. _“But you probably already know that since I told you I played volleyball—”_

“Hey!” Shouyou interrupts sharply, sitting up and gripping a fist into his comforter. “I play volleyball too!”

A pause. Then,

 _“Um... okay. Good for you._ ”

“I-I mean,” god he’s stupid, “I’m not tall! And I play!”

 _“Oh.”_ Shouyou can hear some rustling, maybe the sound of blankets or a pillow. Maybe Kageyama is in his bed, too. _“Are you any good?”_

Shouyou flusters. “I’ve played for years, haven’t I!?”

_“I don’t know, have you?”_

“Yeah!”

_“Okay then. Sorry.”_

“It’s okay,” Shouyou sniffs, embarrassed all over again. “It’s not like I told you that or anything.”

 _“Oh god,”_ Kageyama groans. It makes Shouyou’s stomach flip. _“Please tell me you’re on a college team.”_

“No?” Shouyou answers, confused. “Well, yeah, I was when I was still in college. I played in high school, too.”

A sigh of relief. _“Okay, good._ ”

“Why?”

_“I never asked how old you were and it’s kind of hard to gauge with how whiny you are.”_

Oh. Sex worker. Right. It would be gross if Shouyou were, like, fourteen. “So you’re tall and kind of a dick. Nice.”

_“And you’re short and, what? A virgin?”_

“Asshole.”

 _“Dumbass_.”

But this makes Shouyou smile, because yes, the man is flirting with him. It’s not the most conventional kind of flirting, but he really can hear the smirk on Kageyama’s lips. And he likes it. “I’m not a virgin,” Shouyou says. _Barely_ , he wants to add. But he doesn’t.

 _“I am,”_ Kageyama says.

Shouyou straightens up fully, eyes wide with shock and awe. “Really!?”

_“No.”_

Shouyou deflates. “Oh wow. So you’re hilarious, too.” He lies back down, pillowing the back of his head with his arm as he stares at the ceiling. “What color is your hair?”

 _“Um… black_.”

“Eyes?”

_“Blue.”_

Shouyou considers this. Decides that he likes it. Particularly because it’s concerningly similar to what he was picturing, anyway. But just because some colors match up with his fantasies doesn’t actually mean anything.

Not that he’s fantasizing about anything, either.

“What’s with all the hesitation?” Shouyou asks. “Am I crossing a line or something?”

 _“No, it’s nothing like that,”_ Kageyama says. _“It’s just that I usually get guys telling me what I look like, rather than asking.”_

“Oh…” Shouyou frowns. “That’s weird.”

_“Why is it weird? I’m here to fulfill fantasies, not shove my reality down anyone’s throat. They want to imagine their perfect partner.”_

Something tells Shouyou that this guy wouldn’t have a hard time being anyone’s perfect partner as he is, but he keeps that to himself. But whatever. Being a tall, athletic dude doesn’t automatically give Kageyama an attractive face or anything. Actually, maybe he’s ugly as shit and that’s why he has a job where other people can’t see him.

 _“So what are_ you _wearing, then?”_

Yeah, _no one_ who has a voice like that is ugly, Shouyou decides.

“Ah, um...” Shouyou looks down at himself, almost startled at the question. And more than a little turned on. “Yellow shorts?” he answers. “And a white t-shirt?”

 _“Cute,”_ Kageyama mutters. It almost sounds like he’s put off by it. Irritated.

“Is that okay with you?” Shouyou bites.

 _“No_ ,” Kageyama grumbles. _“Take the shorts off.”_

“What!?” Jesus, zero to sixty in a tenth of a second.

 _“And tell me what color your hair is_.”

Shouyou is speechless, though he isn’t sure why, given the entire reason for this phone call. But the sudden shift in tone has him reeling and rapidly hardening in the shorts that Kageyama has taken issue with.

“C-can’t we just talk a little?” Shouyou squeaks, grabbing himself between the legs.

 _“We are.”_ Kageyama’s voice has darkened considerably, and Shouyou can’t help but squeeze himself at the words. He can’t believe he suggested the man was _bad_ at this. “ _Hair color,_ ” he demands again.

“Why?” Shouyou asks quietly to keep a moan buried inside of him.

 _“Because I want to get the proper visual for when you start touching yourself,”_ Kageyama murmurs, _“or have you already started?”_

Shouyou’s stomach hits the floor and then rockets back up into his throat, taking his heart with it. Kageyama wants to visualize him? _Him!?_

 _“Tell me,”_ Kageyama breathes. _“Come on. You called me, so you must want something, right? Trust me. I’ll get you to where you want to be.”_

“Red,” Shouyou manages to whimper.

 _“Fuck,”_ Kageyama sighs.

Shouyou shudders and feels his cock jump beneath his palm. “What?” he asks. He hears the other man breathe out long and steadily through his nose before saying,

_“I like that.”_

“You do?”

_“Get those shorts off.”_

And Shouyou does, quickly and clumsily and tosses them over the edge of the bed as if hypnotized. “Okay, I did it,” he says eagerly. Hoping it doesn’t sound too much like he’s expecting some kind of reward. He can’t figure out why, but all of a sudden he wants to please the man on the other end. And he’s getting hotter at the thought that Kageyama likes little pieces of him.

A deep, dark laugh comes over the line and then, _“good job, Hinata.”_

That’s a reward if he has ever heard one. Lying back again, Shouyou presses his cock against his belly with his palm, but just for a second before grabbing at the bedding beside him. “Now what?” he breathes.

But Kageyama remains quiet. And for one horrible moment Shouyou thinks he hung up on him or the call was dropped, but a panicked look at the screen tells him that the call is still active. “Kageyama?” he says.

 _“Just... give me a second, idiot,_ ” the other man replies lowly. _“Don’t be so impatient.”_

 “I thought you hung up,” Shouyou admits.

“ _It would take a lot to make that happen, Hinata.”_

Shouyou whines wordlessly and turns his face, pushing it into his pillow. He wants to be given more directions – be told he’s doing well for this man. “What are you doing?” he asks, voice all muffled.

 _“Picturing you,”_ Kageyama replies. “ _And I have a really good imagination.”_

Shouyou has no idea how to verbally respond to that, so he just rolls over onto his stomach, catching his lip between his teeth at the feeling of the soft comforter pressed against his bare cock. He rocks his hips down. Just once.

_“So, what do you do?”_

“Like… for a job?”

_“What else would that mean?”_

Hinata huffs. “You just told me to take my shorts off! Now we’re just going to make small talk?”

_“It’s what you want, isn’t it? You want to start slow.”_

“Oh,” Shouyou mutters. “Yeah.”

_“Stupid.”_

“I’m new!—” Shouyou bites the pillow; saying that he’s ‘new to this’ suggests he’s going to be doing it again. And he’s _not._ “I-I’ve never done this before!” he says instead. “I don’t know what we’re supposed to do!”

 _“We’re not_ supposed _to do anything_ ,” Kageyama tells him. _“We can talk if that’s all you want.”_

“You made me take my pants off.”

_“Because you don’t just want to talk.”_

A shiver zips through him. “W-what if I change my mind?”

_“Then we can talk. I’ll give you anything you want, Hinata.”_

That last part breezes through him like a warm wind – a gentle caress from the small of his back and up the length of his spine that almost makes him moan out loud. He wishes that Kageyama would stop saying his name because it’s scrambling him all up. He didn’t know a voice could ever be this powerful. Stroking him pliant with every dip in tone. Every shift in pitch.

_“But you won’t change your mind.”_

This time Shouyou actually does moan, but he catches it in the pillow before it gets to Kageyama.

_“So, tell me, what do you do?”_

 Shouyou clears his throat and lifts his mouth from the pillow before he answers, quietly,

“I’m an assistant volleyball coach at a middle school.”

_“And what does an assistant coach do?”_

“Well, um—” Shouyou’s breath catches when his hips push down again, “I-I pretty much do everything a coach does. Except I— _ngh—”_ he’s rubbing himself on the bed now. He really can’t help it. “—I j-just started so I’m learning—stuff.” He doesn’t know why he’s trying so hard to keep his voice even. Kageyama does this for a _living_. He probably wants to know that Shouyou is getting off. Or maybe he’s been doing this so long that he’s completely desensitized to it. Shouyou doesn’t like that at all. “How long have you been doing this?” he asks steadily.

_“Five… maybe six months.”_

“That’s not very long.”

_“I guess it’s not.”_

“Do you like—it?”

A soft, low laugh. It would almost sound shy if Shouyou didn’t know it was strategically placed to pull him apart. _“Sometimes.”_

“Does it… um…” Shouyou swallows, “do you—”

 _“Do I get off on it?”_ Kageyama offers.

Shouyou just nods like an idiot. Kageyama seems to get it, anyway.

_“Again… sometimes. It depends. I like knowing that I can help make someone feel good—"_

He knew it!

“— _but that usually means that the other person has to tell me what they want so I can give it to them.”_

Shouyou gets the hint and he bites his lip as he ruts into the bedding. “But… I don’t know what I—want.”

_“Do you have a boyfriend?”_

Shouyou scoffs, stilling his hips. “No.”

A slight pause. “ _...girlfriend?”_

“What?”

_“You’d be surprised.”_

Would he, though?

 _“Is there anything you want to act out?”_ Kageyama asks. “ _Any fantasy you have?”_

He _must_ have one, right? He isn’t that uninteresting! But his mind is blanking with all the embarrassment and arousal mucking it up. But the thought – the image – of Kageyama getting off is making his hips roll again, so he whimpers and says,

“I-I want to make you feel good!”

_“You already are, Hinata.”_

“What!?”

 _“I’ve been touching myself since you took your shorts off,”_ Kageyama whispers. _“Thinking about you like that… in your bed… I really like your voice._ ”

Shouyou gasps at the utter absurdity of that and at the feeling that shoots straight to his dick. Kageyama likes his voice? _His_ voice!? That’s like Michelangelo praising his finger painting. But Kageyama continues,

_“You’re hard, too, aren’t you?”_

“Nnn _yesss…_ ” Shouyou whinnies.

Kageyama hums deeply – pleased at this news. And Shouyou wants more of that so badly he could scream. Instead he asks, tone pleading,

“What do you want me to do?” 

“ _Brown eyes?”_

“Me?” Shouyou asks stupidly.

_“Obviously.”_

“Yes.”

 _“Good,”_ Kageyama breathes. _“I have to know what’s looking up at me when I put you on your knees—"_

“Oh god,” Shouyou mewls.

_“—and slide my dick between your lips.”_

“Oh _god,”_ Shouyou outright sobs, stuffing a hand between himself and the mattress to grip his cock again. What is even _happening_ right now? He’s salivating at the thought of this – the image of this man locked in his mind as he feels the weight of him slide over his tongue. How his lips stretch around the hard, warm flesh. How Kageyama would slide a hand into his hair and force Shouyou to swallow him deep.

 _“Or would you rather bend me over,”_ Kageyama continues, voice deep and sultry and right up against Shouyou’s ear. _“Take me from behind.”_

Shouyou pictures this as well; gripping the man’s hips as he leans in close, sliding his cock up over his hole while he begs for it in that goddamn voice – quiet but wrecked with need.

Yeah. That sounds good too. But not as good as being filled to the brim, and Shouyou says as much.

“Y-yes. Er—no, the first—I mean—fuck—”

Well, he tries, anyway.

 _“What do you want, Hinata,”_ Kageyama says commandingly. _“Tell me what you need.”_

“Your cock,” Shouyou pleads, letting the embarrassment roll over his face in hot waves.

_“Are you touching yourself?”_

“Mmhm,” Shouyou whimpers, ashamed but _delighting_ in it. His body is alive and singing with an electric mortification sparking over him. This man is good. This man is fucking _good_.

_“What are you thinking about?”_

“Tasting you,” Shouyou breathes. “I want you to—to pull my hair.”

 _“That’s good, Hinata,”_ Kageyama praises. Shouyou feels himself leak into his hand. _“You’re doing so well. Tell me how you’re touching yourself.”_

“No!“ Hinata whines, starting to rock his hips, fucking into his slick fist. “It’s too—embarrassing—”

 _“Do you want my cock, Hinata?”_ Kageyama asks, mischief and agitation somehow mingling in his voice at Shouyou’s defiance.  

“Shouyou,” Shouyou gasps, “p-please call me Shouyou.”

 _“No,”_ the other man grumbles. _“You don’t deserve that yet.”_

“But—"

“ _Do you want me?_ ”

“God, yes!” Shouyou cries. “Yes, I want it—”

 _“Then you have to tell me what you’re doing, okay?”_ Kageyama’s voice keeps that soft commanding tone, but he’s dropped a touch of kindness and understanding into the mix. And it’s driving Shouyou fucking crazy.

 _“_ I’m—I-I’m on my stomach—” Shouyou squeezes his eyes shut and coils his fingers tighter, breath hitching in his chest at the pressure around his shaft. “And, u-um, my hand is—between my legs—” he doesn’t know how to say this part. Doesn’t know how to tell Kageyama that his hips are rocking of their own accord, driving his leaking cock in and out of his fist.

_“Are you fucking your hand?”_

“Yes!”

 _“Good... that’s so good,”_ Kageyama praises him again and Shouyou hisses out a strangled breath through his teeth. He can almost feel warm breath on the back of his neck, lips at his ear as the man climbs up behind him. Slips himself against the cleft in Shouyou’s ass. Teasing. Shouyou releases his cock and reaches behind himself, simulating this addition to the fantasy and moaning loudly.

“Pretending—you’re behind me,” Shouyou pants.

_“I am behind you, Shouyou.”_

Shouyou bites the comforter to keep from yelling, snapping his hand back to his cock.

_“I can’t wait to be inside you.”_

Shouyou has never felt so desperate to be filled. Not only that, to just be fucking _touched_ ; this man’s deep voice pulls him like nothing ever has before, and he longs to feel his palms smoothing over his back, his hips, parting his thighs with strong fingers curled around the backs of his legs.

This is bad. This is really bad.

_“I want you to get on your hands and knees now.”_

Shouyou does as he’s told, but he can’t hold the phone and stroke himself at the same time in that position, so he whimpers pitifully at the loss of contact, shivering when a drop of precum drips from his slit. “Kageyama...” he bleats, “please...”

 _“Are you on your knees?”_ Kageyama asks.

“Yes,” Shouyou’s voice sounds rung dry, hoarse with the need to touch himself. “B-but I can’t—”

 _“I know,”_ Kageyama says. _“Shouyou—”_

Shouyou can feel tears in the corners of his eyes with how badly he needs to touch his dick. He throbs every time Kageyama says his name, wonders if he could come from the man’s voice alone. “What?” he squeaks.

 _“—you sound really good like that_.”

A rush of air leaves Shouyou when he tries to ask _like what?_ and he drops his head down onto his forearm on the bed.

 _“You sound desperate for me,”_ Kageyama rumbles. _“And I’m so hard for you.”_

Shouyou’s hips jump and he starts taking gasping breaths in through his mouth.

 _“I wish I—knew what you looked like,”_ Kageyama curses under his breath. _“You—I bet you’re—”_

“Google!” Shouyou blurts the first dumb words that burst into his mind. “I’m—picture—college team—”

But then his stomach runs cold, despite the air forcing its way into his lungs – both from the complete and abrupt silence from the other end and the fact that he just told a stranger to find a picture of him on the internet to masturbate to. Has he lost his fucking mind!?

_“Are… are you really okay with that, Shouyou?”_

Yes. He has.

 _“_ Yes! Just let me—need to—” Shouyou chokes on his words and hangs his head. He hears shuffling on Kageyama’s end. Then the click-clack of fingers on keys.

 _“Are you sure about this?”_ Kageyama asks. He sounds so nervous now. Miles from the confident sex god from only moments ago, but that only serves to make him more human and Shouyou can’t stand it anymore; he rocks back onto his heels and grasps his length tightly, sighing with so much relief when he pumps himself once. Twice. _“Shouyou?”_

 _“_ Fuck—” Shouyou releases his cock immediately with a gasp and throws his hand back onto the bed behind him to keep himself on his knees while his dick twitches, panting hard. “Yes—I’m sure—you can look—”

He really must be insane. No, he’s not awful looking, or anything. He knows he’s not ugly. But… okay, how would _you_ feel right now? Never mind, you wouldn’t be dumb enough to suggest such a thing in the first place.

But something about it makes Shouyou’s body flush ridiculously hot; hotter than simple humiliation.

There’s another clicking of fingers on keys and then he hears the catch of breath from the other man, like he was about to say something. Maybe to try to give Shouyou another out. Shit, maybe Kageyama doesn’t even want to see what he looks like at all. He’s an entertainer, after all. Right? An actor? Oh fuck, fuck – Shouyou’s stomach starts to twist with shameful remorse; why would this man give a shit what he looks like? Shouyou isn’t special or anything! He’s just some creep who got caught up in—

 _“Shouyou,”_ Kageyama says, voice rough. _“Are you still on your hands and knees?”_

Shouyou yelps and drops forward again. “Yes!”

 _“Okay…”_ the other man breathes out. Shouyou hears the quiet snap of a laptop closing and he chews at his lip. The suspense is killing him. Did Kageyama see him? Which picture? Is he disgusted? Disappointed?

Shouyou’s heart actually starts to sink and he screws his eyes down. Why did he suggest that? The fuck is wrong with him?

_“I shouldn’t have done that.”_

Kageyama’s voice is alarmingly flat. Unable to decode.

“Why?” Shouyou squeaks.

Kageyama is quiet for several long, long, _long_ moments. And then,

_“I want to fuck you, Shouyou.”_

Shouyou chokes on an inhale.

 _“I…”_ Shouyou realizes he can hear Kageyama breathing heavily. Raggedly. _“I’m imagining what it would be like… to hold you. To fuck you hard.”_

It’s getting hard to breathe in his stuffy-ass room and Shouyou contemplates opening a window. Maybe throw himself out of it because this isn’t actually happening right now. But he can’t move.

 _“Shit… Hina—Shouyou I really… shouldn’t have done that.”_ The groan that Kageyama breathes out shudders its way through Shouyou’s entire body, curling his toes and shaking the arm that’s planted on the bed as it combs over him. _“You’re r-really… fuck—”_

“What?” Hinata rasps.

 _“You’re kind of… you’re—perfect—”_ Kageyama sucks in a breath.

No. No no no _no_ , he did _not_ just say Shouyou is perfect. And even if he did, it’s a lie! A ruse! Cruel, efficient trickery!

_“I could throw you around—bounce you up against the wall as I—fuck—s-shit—”_

Shouyou moans, desperate for contact as his cock dribbles all over the bed below him.

_“I’m... fuck, I’m so... dammit—”_

“What’s wrong?” Shouyou asks shakily.

He hears Kageyama swallow thickly, and the unmistakable sound of him doing what Shouyou fucking _wishes_ he himself could be doing. But coming from the man on the other end of the phone, it’s making him dizzy. _“You’re just... I don’t know. And your voice... you’re really— shit, I’m not supposed to—get this worked up—”_

And, alright, Shouyou knows that it’s all definitely an act. A ploy to get return customers—

_“You just seem like—fuck—Shouyou—I want you so bad.”_

But let him fucking _live._

“Please, Kageyama,” Shouyou gasps, “what should I do? T-tell me what to do.”

 _“Put the phone on—speaker,”_ Kageyama instructs brokenly, _“and finger yourself.”_

Shouyou fumbles the phone in his haste, jabbing at the ‘speaker button’. The phone drops to the bed and he thinks that maybe he should make sure that his door is locked, but instead he’s pulling hard at the drawer on his nightstand, fishing a small bottle of lube out from the back.

 _“Talk me through—what you’re doing,”_ Kageyama breathes. _“And tell me what you want me to do to you. Stay on your—knees.”_

Shouyou shoots his phone a look while he drizzles lube all over his fingers, as if Kageyama can actually see him. That thought makes him weak. “I’m p-putting lube on my fingers—but I wish they were yours.” Shouyou bites at his lip at the ease with which that tumbled from his mouth.

 _“I do too, Shouyou—I want to stretch you open_.”

“Okay,” Shouyou licks his lips in concentration, firmly planting a hand to the bed as the other reaches back behind him. “I-I’m… putting them—oh… _oh—”_ he slides his first two fingers hard against his waiting entrance, sinking in just to the first knuckles. It’s been a while since he’s done this, and the intrusion is more than he expected. _“_ Ka—yama—” he weeps.

_“Tell me how it feels.”_

And Shouyou gasps, “T-tight—”

 _“Get yourself ready for me,”_ Kageyama growls. Shouyou can hear him breathing heavily, and that sound of skin slapping on skin is picking up speed.

Slamming his eyes shut tight, Shouyou plunges his fingers in deeper and his whole body shakes with a shuddering exhale.

_“Spread your legs—w-wide.”_

Shouyou does – he parts his trembling thighs wider over the mattress. “I’m—they’re in—so deep—my fingers.”

_“I wish I could see you like that—’_

“I wish you—we’re in me— _ah!—”_ Shouyou jerks his hips back, impaling himself further onto his digits. The burn is starting to subside as he takes himself even deeper. And as colors dance behind his eyelids, Shouyou wishes he could replace the kaleidoscope with the image of the man, chest bare, his cock big and hard in his hand as he strokes himself. He’s big, right? He has to be; Shouyou can practically hear the weight of his cock in that voice. “Please—tell me—what you’re doing—” Shouyou begs.

 _“My cock is in my hand,”_ Kageyama husks, “ _and I’m—thinking about sliding into you, imaging the look on your cute face as you take me to the hilt—”_

“I want it—Kage—I want it—”

The other man groans. _“Please let me give it to you—Shouyou, let me fuck you—”_

Shouyou curls his fingers inside himself and keens, dropping his face into the bedding beside the phone. “ _Ah—_ ‘yama—I’m ready for you—so ready—”

_“I’m going to fuck you open, Shouyou—split you wide—”_

“Fingers—” Shouyou gasps, “not—enough—”

 _“You sound—god—"_ Kageyama’s voice sounds strained, tone wavering. _“You’re doing—amazing—”_ The last part sounds almost like an afterthought, rushed, almost. Like Kageyama suddenly remembered he’s doing this for Shouyou and not himself.

Another tactic, but seriously whatever.

Shouyou can’t take it anymore and he falls back down onto his stomach, gripping his aching cock again, hitching his leg up to give himself room to stroke himself fully. His tongue pants against his bottom lip and he jams the fingers of his other hand into his mouth, sucking greedily and picturing dark blue eyes watching him from above.

 _“S-Shouyou,”_ the man is stuttering his name, something Shouyou will make sure to revisit again and again in the future. _“I-I’m—I don’t—understand—”_

“Mm?” Shouyou hums around his dripping fingers.

 _“I’m actually—fuck—”_ Kageyama sounds pained. _“Hinata, I—I really want you—”_

Shouyou shivers and pulls his fingers out of his mouth. “Me too—”

 _“No—s-shit, shut up—idiot,”_ Kageyama snaps. _“This isn’t—I’m fucking serious."_

Shouyou has no idea what he’s talking about and he doesn’t _care_ because that wrecked, agitated voice is pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Fuck. _Fuck_ – Kageyama is a goddamn artist. “Then do it—please do it—fill me—”

 _“Yeah—”_ Kageyama gasps, “ _take it—take my cock—t-tell me how it feels."_

“Kage—” Hinata pants, drooling onto the bed as heat builds and winds and grips tighter and tighter inside of him with every stroke – every hard breath from the man on the other end. “It’s so good—you feel so good—I can’t—can’t take it—”

_“I’m so deep—in you—you’re making me feel—so fucking good."_

 Shouyou sobs. “I’m—close—gonna come—"

 _“FUCK—”_ Shouyou hears Kageyama hit something hard, his breath coming with a hot, growling hitch. “ _Your free call—it’s up—the time is over but dammit—Shou—Hinata, I want to come with you. I want—to hear you come.”_

Panic swells inside of Shouyou with the threat of the call ending, and the desperation coming from Kageyama on the other end is either deadly serious or the most brilliant fucking sales tactic in the history of phone sex and at this point it could be either and he doesn’t want to take any chances, so he throws his last shred of dignity at the other man. “Please—oh god please, Kageyama—please let me come with you,” he pleads, whimpering pitifully with actual tears squeezing from his eyes. “I need it—I’ll be good—j-just let me come—need to come with you—”

 _“Shit,”_ Kageyama huffs in utter frustration. Or fake frustration. It’s effective either way. _“Dumbass—fuck you—don’t fucking do that—”_

“Don’t—end the call—begging you—Kageyama—fuck me—please keep fucking me—harder— _harder._ ”

There’s that loud thud of a fist on a table or wall or a headboard or _something_ and ragged, labored breathing before a low, low growl of, _“say you want me to come in you.”_

“Yes, _yes!”_ Shouyou sobs. “Come inside me—please—oh my god _please—_ ” what the fuck is happening. This isn’t him. He’s not _like_ this; but Shouyou is willing to reevaluate his entire goddamn life as his hips start jerking hard and he comes, spurting all over his hand and the bed with a broken shout of Kageyama’s name.

 _“Shit—Shou—oh fuck—_ fuck—"

He can hear the gasp and groan of Kageyama’s orgasm as well as he rings himself dry; the sound of the other man’s ecstasy serves to draw out the tremble of his thighs just a little longer. Stokes the pleasure just a few moments more.

When he’s nothing more than a quivering pile of heavy breathing, Shouyou can hear Kageyama panting, too.

It’s nice, he thinks.

And after a couple minutes,

“Hey… Kageyama?” Shouyou mumbles tiredly. His body feels warm – cottony. Pleasantly soft and sleepy with a hint of embarrassment simmering under his skin.

There’s a hard breath. Then,

_“What.”_

And without thinking at all, just sort of going with the flow of whatever the hell just happened, Shouyou says,

“Can I kiss you?”

A mumbled _shit_ just barely precedes the sudden click that signals a hang up and the inevitable quiet to follow.

Shouyou blinks, rolling his head to the side before pushing himself into a sitting position.

Well fine then.

Mildly put off, Shouyou frowns down at his phone lying face up on the bed. When the screen goes dark he shoves at it and lets it fall wherever. He’s too spent to care. Let alone have the energy to wash his grossed-up comforter.

He wiggles his way beneath the sheets, shedding his t-shirt along the way.

And as his heart rate returns to normal and he falls asleep, he thinks it was that guy’s fault that Shouyou got all caught up in the moment, after all. So fuck him for getting all bent out of shape for Shouyou just trying to add to the… whatever it was they were doing with something as innocent as a little kiss. Kageyama was talking about shooting his load inside him, for christ sake.

Shouyou shudders when his limp cock twitches against his thigh.

And what kind of professional sex person just hangs up on their clients? Whatever. It’s not like he’d be a repeat customer. Seriously. Whatever.

But… he thinks he wouldn’t really mind having someone to kiss… to cuddle with after all that.

His brow creases and he scooches down further into the covers.

But again. Whatever. It was a one-time thing. That’s all.

He’s not going to let some stranger’s rudeness get to him. And he’ll let the shame thoroughly douse him tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Shouyou makes sure to sneak into the bathroom after Kenma and use up all the hot water before Kei can shower. His roommate doesn’t actually say anything over breakfast, but Shouyou feels spitefully victorious nonetheless.

After a deep reflection on the night’s events, Shouyou decided that it was utterly humiliating. And it was entirely Kei’s fault… well. Partially. Shouyou might be at fault a little, too. Letting someone have that kind of effect on him – a _stranger_ – was completely unacceptable. So what if the guy’s voice was, like, an orgasm in itself? He obviously didn’t _hate_ everything about it. But now he’s got the memory noodling around in his head.

Fuck is it distracting.

And how pathetic is he that he made a phone sex operator hang up on him? It’s hard not to feel the blow to his self-esteem dragging him down every time he thinks about it.   

But Shouyou tries _not_ to think about it all day at work. His job doesn’t exactly allow him to be all distracted and pissy, and DEFINITELY not aroused. So he shoves that stupid voice far into the back of his mind until he’s safe at home again.

And then he just stews about it. Ruminating instead of relaxing.

And if he were to call back, it would just be to find out what was so offensive about Shouyou wanting a kiss. But he’s _not_. Definitely not going to call back. That’s probably what the asshole does to get repeat clients. Assault them with pleasure and then BAM, make them feel like shit. Make them wonder what the hell they did to incur his wrath.

Eh.

Okay, so there wasn’t any wrath, exactly. And Shouyou doesn’t feel like shit. He’s just… irked.

And he’s not going to play into Kageyama’s hands and seek some answers with another phone call.

He’s _not_ calling back.

He’s absolutely not calling back, he tells himself when he slips a frozen pizza into the oven.

There’s no way he ever wants to hear that voice again, he thinks during his evening run.

It wasn’t even that good, he says to himself when he steps into the shower. And he’s definitely not thinking about it, he swears, when he jerks off beneath the hot stream of water. Just to calm his nerves. Just to get the shitty day out of his system.

There’s no way he’s calling again, he thinks after getting into his pajamas. Sitting on his bed. Staring at his phone.

He sure wishes he had some restraint to applaud.

He chews his lip as the phone rings. Realizing that if the call doesn’t go straight to Kageyama, like if there is one of those menus, he’ll have no idea how to reach him. And he’s definitely not asking Kei—

_“Um. Hello?”_

Shouyou ignores the flush of arousal he feels when he hears that voice again. He tries not to sigh with relief. It’s a private line.

He almost forgets why he called.

“Hi,” he says, licking his lips nervously. “Remember me?”

_“Yeah… I do… what the hell do you think you’re doing?”_

Shouyou blinks. “Huh?”

 _“You can’t just call me whenever, dumbass!”_ Kageyama hisses. _“I have hours!”_

“What?” Shouyou throws his gaze to the clock on his dresser. It’s a little after nine. He thinks they spoke around eleven yesterday. But he can’t be sure.

_“We didn’t even set up any credit card information or anything, and I—”_

“Just, shut up for a second!” Shouyou huffs. “I’m not calling for that!”

_“What the—jesus, hold on.”_

Shouyou snuffles out an angry breath and listens to footsteps on the other end and then the creak of a door.

 _“_ _What the fuck do you want?”_ Kageyama’s irritated voice has an echo-y quality to it.

Shouyou wrinkles his nose. “Are you in a bathroom?”

 _“Locker room,”_ the man snaps. _“What do you want?”_

“Why did you hang up on me last night!?” Shouyou snaps.

_“I… what?”_

Suddenly nervous, Shouyou lowers his voice and incidentally tucks his chin towards his chest. “You hung up on me, idiot, after… all that stuff.”

_“Listen, you little shit, I have no problem blocking your number if I think you’re going to become some stalker—”_

“No!” Shouyou interjects. “I’m—” he sighs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know about the… hours thing. I just… I thought you… I thought maybe… _guh—”_ he flops back onto his bed and throws an arm over his face, defeated and terribly embarrassed. “I’m sorry if I offended you or something,” he mumbles. “But you hung up on me without an explanation and… it didn’t feel great.”

There’s a pause. Then,

 _“Your time was up,”_ Kageyama says quietly. _“I told you that.”_

“Yeah but… you’re the one who kept going,” Shouyou points out. But then he sighs, squirming a little at the uncomfortable feeling stuck behind his ribs. God, he’s pathetic. “I shouldn’t have called you again. I’m sorry.”

_“Stop saying you’re sorry.”_

“Why? I am.”

_“For what?”_

“For saying something that offended you.”

_“You didn’t offend me. And even if you did, why do you care?”_

Why does he care? What kind of question is that? “Because… you’re a person?”

Kageyama doesn’t say anything to that.

 Shouyou sighs again. “You even said it would take a lot for you to hang up on me, so—”

 _“Your free time was up,”_ Kageyama says again flatly.

It’s like talking to a pile of bricks. “I’ll pay for the time we went over, okay?”

_“That isn’t necessary.”_

Shouyou hits the bed beside him in frustration. “Alright, fine! I just wanted to know why you hung up after I mentioned kissing you! It bothered me all day, okay!? That’s it! That’s all. Sorry for calling during your off hours. I’ll give you my credit card and you can charge me for this, too. And then you can block my number for all I care, because I’m not going to call you ever again!”

For a long while, there’s just the sound of Shouyou’s heavy breathing, but then,

 _“I’m not going to block your number,”_ Kageyama mutters.

“Well then, let me pay,” Shouyou says.

 _“No… it’s fine,”_ the other man replies. There’s that creaking sound of a door opening and then some muffled voices in the background. _“Look, I’m sorry I hung up on you,”_ Kageyama is whispering now. It makes Shouyou’s cock jump. He mentally scolds the shit out of it. _“You just caught me off guard… I can’t talk about this right now.”_

“Off guard?” Shouyou scrunches his face. “We were—”

 _“I know what we were doing!”_ Kageyama hisses, flustered. _“I can’t talk right now!”_

“Okay, fine,” Shouyou mumbles. “Bye then.”

 _“Don’t—just—”_ Kageyama exhales harshly. _“We can talk when I get home, alright?”_

Shouyou arches a brow. “You mean you’re going to call me back?”

_“Yeah.”_

“Are you going to charge me?”

_“Maybe. It depends where things go.”_

Where things go. Shouyou bites his lip.

_“Unless you don’t want to talk to me again.”_

“I do!” Shouyou blurts.

 _“Okay then,”_ Kageyama says. “ _Bye, Shouyou.”_

Shouyou likes to think he said goodbye before grabbing at his chest and throwing his phone like it was made of snakes.

He doesn’t have long to wait, but it feels like fucking years before his phone trills away on the floor where it fell half an hour ago. He steels himself, taking a breath before answering.

“Hello?”   

_“This is a first.”_

“What?”

_“A performer calling a customer.”_

Performer. Shouyou doesn’t like that word. “Is it?”

_“For me it is.”_

“I’m technically not a customer,” Shouyou points out.

_“Do you want to be?”_

“I don’t know yet,” he answers honestly. “Are you on duty?”

Kageyama laughs.

Shouyou hates him.

_“Not quite.”_

“So,” Shouyou says, getting right to business. “Why did you hang up on me like that?”

He hears Kageyama falter.

“And if you say it’s because my time was up then I’m punching you through the phone.”

_“Even if it’s the truth?”_

“It’s not.”

_“Do you know something I don’t?”_

“Don’t try to be cute, just answer the question.”

A few quiet seconds pass between them before Kageyama says,

_“You rattled me, I guess.”_

Shouyou snorts. “Please.”

_“Why is that hard to believe?”_

“Because you have sex on the phone for _money_ ,” Shouyou says. “How could I possibly say anything that would affect you?”

_“I don’t actually have sex, dumbass.”_

“You know what I mean.”

 _“I’ve never seen what any of my customers look like before,”_ Kageyama explains. _“It was… jarring.”_

“Jarring.”

_“You put me in a weird place even before that, so I don’t know what you want me to say.”_

Shouyou wrinkles his nose. “Well, I’d start with explaining what the hell that sentence meant.”

_“I don’t think I can.”_

“Not with that shit attitude.”

Kageyama laughs. _“There are a lot of things about you that I find attractive.”_

Shouyou’s stomach flips.

 _“It’s nothing profound or mysterious or anything,”_ Kageyama says. _“I just… got a little lost in it.”_

Shouyou nods, not understanding at all. “And, what, you hate kissing or something?”

_“I didn’t say that.”_

“I don’t get it,” Shouyou grumbles.

_“There’s nothing to get.”_

“You suck.”

_“Is that what you want?”_

Shouyou whines at the innuendo and squeezes his thighs together, chastising his dick for its sudden interest. “Is it that time already?”

_“It is if you want it to be.”_

Chewing his lip in contemplation, Shouyou wonders where he put his wallet. “Alright,” he says, mouth suddenly dry. Let me find my wallet and I’ll—“

 _“Don’t worry about that,”_ Kageyama says sincerely.

“What?”

_“You can have another on me. For how I left it last night.”_

“Are you serious?” Shouyou asks suspiciously. “What’s the catch.”

“ _There is none.”_

“I don’t believe you.”

A sigh. _“Do you want to get off or not?”_

“No,” he mumbles, though the tent in his shorts says otherwise.

 _“I don’t believe you,”_ Kageyama says, imitating Shouyou.

Shouyou presses his lips together, slowly sliding his hand low on his belly.

 _“I bet you’re one of those guys who gets really into getting his dick sucked,”_ Kageyama whispers.

He thinks back to all, like, five blowjobs he’s ever received as he slips his fingers under his waistband. Is that true? Does he get really into it?

“ _You get all messed up,”_ Kageyama rumbles, “ _and start begging for more.”_

Even if he doesn’t know if that’s what he’s done in the past, he’s certain that’s exactly what he’d do for Kageyama.

“Yeah…” Shouyou answers breathlessly. “A-are we really doing this?”

_“Do you want to?”_

Shouyou nods. “Yes,” he says.

 _“Then let me tell you what I’d do to you_.”

Shouyou squeezes the ever-loving fuck out of his dick. “‘kay!” he yelps.

 _“Are you wearing shorts again?”_ Kageyama asks lowly, _“showing off those thighs?”_

“Y-yes,” Shouyou replies. He’s not showing anything off to anybody, but he is definitely wearing shorts. “Should I take them off again?”

Kageyama almost snarls at the question. _“No. That’s my job.”_

“Yes sir!”

Kageyama actually snorts. _“You’re ridiculous.”_

Shouyou silently agrees.

 _“Is your hand on your cock yet?”_ Kageyama asks.

“Yeah,” Shouyou replies, worried, almost, that this isn’t the reply Kageyama wanted.

 _“Mm… good,”_ Kageyama hums. _“You want me to blow you, don’t you?”_

“Oh god, yes,” Shouyou breathes out.

 _“Lie back,”_ Kageyama murmurs, _“and let me take care of you.”_

“’kay—I’m ready,” Shouyou says.

 _“You sound desperate already,”_ Kageyama teases.

“I want it,” Shouyou whines. “Please—‘yama—”

 _“I like when you call me that,”_ Kageyama tells him, dropping his voice even lower. _“I’m going to reward you.”_

Shouyou nods insanely, catching his lip in his teeth and stroking himself loosely.

 _“I’m running my fingers up the insides of your thighs,”_ Kageyama whispers, _“god, I love your legs... so strong… but soft. I can’t wait to have them wrapped around my head—”_

Shouyou absolutely does not regret telling Kageyama to find his picture.

_“—or my waist.”_

“H-how about both?” Shouyou offers, hopefully.

 _“Patience,”_ Kageyama purrs. _“I want to taste you first.”_

Shouyou keens, swirling his thumb over the head of his cock.

_“God, Shouyou, you’re shaking,” Kageyama breathes. “I’m running my fingers up beneath the legs of your shorts, leaning forward to touch my lips on the soft skin. I’m watching you, Shouyou, while I slide my lips up higher.”_

Shouyou is panting, pushing his legs apart wider and visualizing dark blue eyes trained on him, soft lips kissing their way up to Shouyou’s stiff cock where its lifting the fabric of his shorts.

_“Mm… Shouyou… you smell so good… you’re making me… so hard…”_

Shouyou releases his cock and hits the 'speaker' icon on the phone before placing it on the bed and then puts his hands on his legs, simulating Kageyama’s rich, syrupy words as they’re breathed into him. “Keep going,” he whispers.

 _“You cock looks amazing… you’re so hard for me.”_ Kageyama’s voice has taken on a huskier quality; he’s moaning into every word. _“You’re already dripping… I can see it through the fabric. You want my mouth so bad.”_

“I do,” Shouyou gasps. “I want it—”

_“I want it too, Shouyou, I want to taste you. Feel you fuck my mouth. I’m going to take your shorts off now.”_

And Shouyou does it, too; he slips his shorts off, nice and slow, and throws them over the side of the bed.

 _“Fuck, your cock looks so good,”_ Kageyama growls. _“So wet for me. I’m going to make you unravel, Shouyou, lick and suck you nice and slow until you’re fucking into my mouth, desperate to come.”_

Keening, Shouyou grabs his dick with both hands.

 _“That’s it, Shouyou, fuck my mouth, slide your cock over my tongue,”_ Shouyou can hear Kageyama masturbating and his own hips start to buck off the bed, _“grab my hair and shoot it all down my throat—come on—I want it—give me something to think about for days—the way you taste—that voice of yours calling my name when you come—your beautiful eyes—shit—”_

That’s it, Shouyou is _gone_ , sucking in needy gasps of air as his body spasms – he doesn’t even have time to shove his t-shirt out of the way before he comes all over himself in thick pulses, choking in surprise at the suddenness of his climax.

When the pleasure dissipates, Shouyou sags back onto the bed, catching his breath.

_“Are you alright?”_

“I think so,” Shouyou wheezes.

_“I’m glad to hear that.”_

“You didn’t… um,” Shouyou sniffs, “c-come, did you?”

_“I’m fine, Shouyou. Don’t worry about me.”_

Frowning at the phone, Shouyou sits up abruptly. “I want you to come!”

Kageyama laughs but it sounds a little off. _“Really, this was for you.”_

“If that’s true then I want you to come,” Shouyou presses.

Silence, then,

_“Okay.”_

A muted thrill zips up Shouyou’s spine and he grabs the phone again to bring it to his ear.

_“I’ll come for you, Shouyou.”_

Shouyou grips his phone hard when that glorious sound meets his ear again, and Kageyama starts to pant.

 _“It won’t take long,”_ Kageyama warns. _“I’m really—hard—”_

Anything Shouyou could say would sound lame as shit, so he keeps it simple with,

“Is it because of me?”

 _“Yeah,”_ Kageyama rasps. _“It’s for you—Shou—so hard for you—”_

Shouyou licks his dry lips, fingers ghosting over his spent cock. He jerks at the oversensitivity.

 _“D-does it bother you?”_ Kageyama asks, voice bouncing as he jerks himself.

“Does what bother me?” Nothing about Kageyama bothers him, he thinks.

Well. No. A lot about Kageyama bothers him. He just temporarily forgot.

_“That I—know what you look like—and I’m—getting off to it—”_

No. No that doesn’t bother him at all. And he says as much. Quickly. And aggressively.

 _“What if I—I was—shit,  ah—_ _Hinata—close—”_

“What if you were what?” Shouyou asks, leaning forward as if that could help him hear the answer better, fingers clutching into the comforter in anticipation.

_“Nothing—f-forget it—”_

“’yama…” he pleads quietly, in what he hopes is his most seductive voice.

_“S-shit!—hah—ah—Shouyou—”_

Seems to have worked.

 _“Picture—”_ Kageyama huffs. _“I’m looking—at your—”_

Shouyou feels the world shift out from under him.

 _“—fuck—I’m—”_ Kageyama ends his words with a choked gasp as he comes, whispering parts and pieces of Shouyou’s name as he does.

And again. No. That absolutely, one-hundred and a million billion percent does not bother Shouyou.

Can he subsist on a confession alone? Draw nutrients out of the words like leech?

Or… like, a mosquito. Or a bat.

Something.  

 _“Shouyou?”_ Kageyama asks breathlessly. _“Hinata?”_

“Hm? What?”

_“Are you… super creeped out now?”_

“What? No!”

_“Are you sure?”_

Yes. He’s sure. He says as much. Then he says,

“…it’s not fair, you know.”

 _“The fuck is wrong with me,”_ Kageyama mutters. Shouyou gets the feeling he shouldn’t have heard that. But then Kageyama says, louder, clearer, _“what’s not fair?”_

“You know what I look like,” Shouyou mumbles sleepily, “I should get to see what you look like, too.”

Kageyama snorts. _“Absolutely not.”_

“Why?”

_“I already told you my real name—”_

“ _Pfft._ Part of it, yeah.”

_“—and you’ve proven yourself to be a stalker as it is.”_

“I’m not a stalker,” Shouyou says, inwardly rolling his eyes so hard his brain hurts.

_“I might come home to you boiling my cat.”_

“Huh?”

_“Nothing. It’s from a movie. Dumbass.”_

“Someone cooked a cat?”

 _“Well, no, it was a rabbit but,”_ a sigh _, “shut up.”_

“So do you have a cat or not?”

 _“I told you to shut up._ ”

“Whatever. I don’t care,” Shouyou yawns.

 _“I should go,”_ Kageyama mutters, _“I’m supposed to have more calls tonight.”_

Shouyou blinks himself wider awake. “Oh… y-yeah Yeah, of course.”

_“So… until next time.”_

“Until… next time,” Shouyou hesitantly agrees. “Are you sure you don’t want me to pay for,” Shouyou gestures into the air to himself, “this?”

_“I said it was fine, stop asking.”_

Shouyou smiles. “Right.”

_“Goodnight, Shouyou.”_

Shouyou opens his mouth to say the same, but instead he says,

“Kageyama?”

_“What?”_

“I like talking to you… I mean, aside from the sex stuff. I-I like that too! But you seem... cool.”

There’s a pause. Kageyama likes to pause. Or maybe he likes to think before he speaks, unlike Shouyou. Who can feel his face heating up as the seconds tick by. Maybe he really is a creep.

_“…I think I like talking to you, too.”_

Shouyou breathes out a laugh with his sigh of relief. “You think?” he asks.

 _“So far… yeah,”_ Kageyama says hesitantly. _“I think I do.”_

He’ll take it.

One more thing.

“Kageyama?” He says again.

Kageyama sighs. _“What?”_

“Can I have a kiss?”

More silence. Before,

_“Fuck you.”_

Shouyou giggles against his palm at the click of a hang up, watching his phone screen fade out with the ended call.

And just like the night before, he shucks his shirt and tosses it on the floor, happy, this time, that he won’t have to wash his blankets in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

“Will you hurry up?” Kei calls down the hallway. “I want to make the next train.”

“Keep your long-ass pants on!” Shouyou bites back from his bedroom, stuffing is knee-pads into his gym bag. “I just got home from work!”

“You have thirty seconds or I’m leaving without you!”

“Fucking… giraffe,” Shouyou gripes under his breath, zipping his hoodie up to his chin and snatching his bag off the floor before bolting out his door and flying down the hall. “You could have given me more warning, you know!”

“I told you this morning,” Giraffe points out when Shouyou meets him at the front door to their apartment. “Not my fault you weren’t listening.”

“I was up late!”

Kei snorts. “Doing what?”

“None of your business.” Shouyou pulls the door open and leads the way to the stairs. “Is Kenma meeting us there?”

“Yeah. He and Kuroo are leaving right from work.”

Shouyou side-eyes the other man as Kei falls into step beside him while they head towards the station. “Why do you still call him that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you guys been fucking for, like, a year?”

“So?”

“ _So,_ who else am I going to know at this match?” Shouyou asks, changing the subject and scuffing his feet as he walks. “I don’t know why you insisted I come tonight.”

“Aside from Kuroo and Kenma, how should I know who the hell you know? And I didn’t _insist,_ I asked you twice. Might as well have been _once_ since you didn’t remember the time this morning.”

“Okay, well, for you, that’s practically begging.” Shouyou smirks, hooking his arm in the other man’s. “You got a crush on me or something? Desperate for my presence?”

“Gross,” Kei mumbles, shaking Shouyou off.

“Same.” Shouyou yawns, stretching his arms above his head. “Maaan~ I didn’t even get a chance to eat!”

“If you’re going to bitch the whole time, just go back home.”

“Nah,” Shouyou shakes his head. “They have vending machines. And I’m kind of curious about the Tuesday-night crowd. Thursdays and Fridays have gotten kind of… um…” his voice trails off and he ducks his head. Kei gives him a side-glance of, what some might consider, sympathy.

Shouyou used to spend all week looking forward to his Thursday and Friday scrimmage matches. But a few months ago, Shouyou developed a small crush on one of the setters – a pretty guy with blue eyes and black hair, who always managed to look bored despite his good looks and skill on the court. And after Nishinoya ran his mouth in the locker room and Shouyou’s crush was revealed, that crush turned into a couple dates, the latter of which ended with a goodnight kiss at Shouyou’s door. And In typical Shouyou Fashion, he spent a good few weeks being goofy, giddy happy about it.

But despite there being talk of a third date, the other guy just seemed to lose interest. Shouyou found out from Kuroo that the guy’s ex-boyfriend moved back to town, and that they were only ex’s because of the long distance. To make matters way worse, the boyfriend joined their games. And, oddly enough, he took a serious liking to Shouyou. And to make matters _super_ worse, the guy was, like, the coolest person ever.

But anyway. It wasn’t like Shouyou was in love with Akaashi or anything, but he felt awkward about it and it made him feel stupid and insignificant, like he was nothing more than a distraction; so it’s been hard for him to relax doing the thing he loves with that whole thing hanging over his head on the court.

Maybe if tonight goes well, he’ll feel comfortable joining the Tuesday and Wednesday matches. If he’s wanted, that is.

“You know, we could use another middle blocker,” Kei tells him when they arrive on the platform.

Hinata tries to hide his joy. He fails.

“I-I wouldn’t want to intrude or anything!” he says, smiling big.

Kei just rolls his eyes. “I meant to invite you earlier, but then—”

The approaching train cuts him off.

“‘But then’ what?” Hinata asks as they board.

“Nothing. Nevermind.”   

Hinata shrugs.

* * *

 

The gym is positively buzzing with activity. All four courts are populated by full teams, and the sidelines are packed with alternates. It’s a much livelier scene than the end-of-the-week games he’s accustomed to, and he’s feeling good – alive and energized by the change in atmosphere. Shouyou tries to take it all in immediately, but there are too many new faces to memorize, and he’s struggling to remember the names of all the guys on his team.

On his down time, he guzzles water and scopes out the other matches, admiring the talent surrounding him and the men behind it. A few times now, he’s had to scold himself for checking out some of the other players – he’s not here for _that,_ and it would be awful to have a repeat of what he just went through. But having Kageyama’s voice pressed against his ear the last couple nights has stirred something up inside him. And it can’t hurt to just… _look_ , right?

And there just so happens to be quite a lot to look at on an adjacent court. There’s a rather intense match going on among, what seems to be, an elevated caliber of players. And Shouyou’s eyes just can’t stay away. The serves are honed, the spikes are powerful and fearless, and the setters themselves are absolutely flawless.

And… unusually pretty.

One of them seems to know it. Shouyou can see it in the way he moves, the way he slaps high-fives and chats up the other players on the team, slinging his arm around one who looks… exactly like…

Shouyou does a double take.

Yeah. There are two of them on that court. Twins? Huh. Neat.

But the other setter either doesn’t know how gorgeous he is, or he just doesn’t give a shit. He’s quiet, and doesn’t celebrate each scored point the way the rest of the players do. Shouyou only catches the side of his face every once in a while, but there’s something in the way the ball floats effortlessly from his fingertips, and how he swipes his shiny black hair back from his forehead and drinks deeply and graciously from his water bottle, like the thing is full of… uh… volleyball talent juice, or something.

Shouyou gets a little lost in it, tonguing at the spout of his own bottle as he watches the pretty, dark-haired setter from the bench. Damn. He really has a type.

“ _HINATA SHOUYOU!_ ”

Shouyou jumps, squirting water all over his mouth.

“Jesus, get your head out of your ass!” Kei yells. “It’s your serve!”

He wipes his wet lips with the back of his hand before dashing onto the court, his head ducked to hide the burn in his cheeks. Kuroo tosses the ball to him with a grin.    

“Hinata, nice serve!” A freckle-faced guy calls out as Shouyou takes his place behind the end-line.

“Don’t suck!” Kei adds.

“Eat my entire ass!” Shouyou snaps. He licks his lips, holding the ball in front of him. He flicks his eyes up quickly, one final safety glance, but instead his gaze is pulled to the side, his unconscious desire to get one more look at the setter dominating his serving responsibilities. It’s fine. He really does suck at serving, anyway.

But that little glance turns into a squeaking gasp and he fumbles the ball in his hands, because the setter is staring right at him – his eyes wide and lips parted with his water bottle half-way to his mouth, and his face is just as nice from the front as it is from the side. That bottle slips from his fingers when their eyes lock.

“What the hell! Serve!”

Shouyou jerks again when Kei shouts at him. Flustered as hell, he stammers an apology and battles to keep his eyes on his own court.

His serve is garbage, but at least it’s in-bounds. To which he breathes a small sigh of extra relief with the possibility of the setter still watching him.

For the rest of the match, Shouyou keeps sneaking small peeks at the other court, and every single time, he meets another watchful gaze before it’s owner yanks it away. From the corner of his eye, it’s piercing and _horribly_ distracting. And at one point, Shouyou glances around himself, wondering if maybe he really _isn’t_ the target of that stare after all. Why the actual fuck would he be?

But there’s no mistaking it. He is. And it’s making him blush. Flush. _Broil_ where he stands. However, the recent blow to Shouyou’s self-esteem keeps him from taking it as a look of interest. Like, maybe the guy saw him staring earlier and this is some kind of payback – leering Shouyou into an early grave.

But as persistent as those eyes are, the setter doesn’t seem to want to be caught. Which… kind of defeats the whole purpose of revenge, right?

Or is that what he _wants_ Shouyou to think?

Fuck. Whatever the motive, it doesn’t make the heat crawling up the back of Shouyou’s neck any less real.

Or any less… arousing.

Because those eyes carry the power to make Shouyou’s pulse race with something other than nerves. And eventually, Shouyou’s rushing blood helps him jump higher, run faster, makes the sting in his palm even more gratifying after the perfect spike that wins them the match. And it makes the praise to follow all the sweeter.

“We heard you were good, but we never expected _that!_ ” Kuroo’s friend Lev tells him as he claps him hard on the shoulder after they shake hands with the other team. “Because you’re short, I mean.” Their libero turns and punches him in the stomach.

“You heard I was good? From who?” Shouyou turns to Kei and Kenma, who both shrug. Shouyou puts a hand over his heart, deeply moved.

“Why not make this a regular thing?” Kuroo asks, gesturing to the other players. “We need another middle blocker for when Tsukki is off brooding.”

Shouyou grins from ear to ear and he nods, his chest welling with confidence and pride – something he hasn’t felt in months. It feels _so_ good that he shoots a look over his shoulder at the setter. The man is wiping his face with a towel and then loops it around his neck, startling when their eyes meet again.

The setter immediately glances away, but Shouyou courageously holds on, waiting. He’s rewarded when at gaze flickers back. Shouyou bites his lip. The man is _painfully_ good looking and he graces the court like a god among men. And he’s eyeing the absolute shit out of Shouyou from across the gym. Why? _Why!?_

Shouyou feels something thump low inside him and he swallows, nervous now. Locked in some battle he can’t hope to win, mostly because he’s not this bold, not flirtatious by any means. But it’s _mostly_ because he can feel his blood turning hot where it pumps below his navel. He’s reminded, suddenly, of the way his legs trembled as he fucked himself with his fingers the other night, of the image he held in his head of lips dragging up his thighs to wrap around his cock, his fingers sliding into black hair—

_‘I bet you’re one of those guys who gets really into getting his dick sucked.’_

_“Shit.”_ Shouyou says under his breath and looks away quickly before running a hand over the back of his neck, ignoring the confused expression on Kenma’s face as he darts to the bench. His fumbling hands snatch up his towel and he drapes it over his head and ties it beneath his chin, hoping it hides the deep flush crawling up into his cheeks.

Is he _crazy?_ In what alternate plane of existence would a guy like _that_ want Shouyou to be having lewd thoughts in his direction? He’s probably just staring at Shouyou because, like Lev and everyone else in the known universe has said, he’s _short_ for a volleyball player. For a middle blocker, no less. And maybe Hot Setter Man is nothing more than mildly impressed by Shouyou’s abilities.

You know, for a _short person._

But now it’s open season for all sorts of inappropriate thoughts, and while Shouyou tries to pick them off one by one, he just can’t keep up as they surge through the gates. He bids his old and new friends a hasty goodbye and grabs his water bottle, keeping his eyes down as he makes a beeline for the locker room with that deep voice following closely.

_‘Let me tell you what I’d do to you.’_

_Oh,_ what he would give for the setter to be following him, too. Shove him through the locker room door, slam him up against the cold metal of the lockers—

“Hey, grandma!”

Shouyou flinches and skids to a halt. He turns back, peeking at Kei from under his babushka of shame.

“We’re going out for drinks, you in?”

Shouyou stuffs his water bottle between his lips, throwing one last look across the gym. The guy is still watching him – head cocked, lips quirked in amusement, but watching nonetheless. _God_ , he looks even better smiling.

“N-no thanks! Next time!” Shouyou squeaks before flying into the locker room. He doesn’t even change out of his clothes, doesn’t even take off his knee pads, just grabs his shit and bolts.

On the train home, he keeps pulling out his phone to anxiously check the time, and he thanks the gods above, below, and in between that his roommates are going to be out for a while. Because as soon as the clock strikes 11, he’ll be dialing Kageyama’s number.

And tonight, Shouyou wants to be _fucked._

* * *

 

At 11:05, Shouyou wets his dry lips and dials Kageyama’s number again. It’s his third time, and the previous two attempts rang and rang before going to voicemail. And unfortunately, he has one of those generic, pre-recorded voicemail messages, so Shouyou can’t even get a taste of the voice he’s craving.

His credit card is already laid out on the bed in front of him, he pulled on his favorite pair of shorts after his shower, and now he’s sitting cross-legged on his bed with his pillows stacked up behind him for easy reclining, so he’s _ready_.

Now if only Kageyama would answer the fucking _phone_.

At, like, the hundredth ring, Shouyou starts to get worried. If Kageyama were avoiding him, the call would go straight to voicemail, right? Same as if his phone were off? So what if something happened to him? What if he’s lying in a ditch somewhere, crying out for Shouyou and _only_ for Shouyou? He wishes that thought didn’t make his heart race and dick twitch. Is he an awful person? Or _maybe—_

_“Um… hello?”_

Hinata breathes a sigh of relief. And then,

“Iwantyoutopretendthatyoufollowmeintoalockerroomafteravolleyballgameandfuckmetodeath—” he pauses to take a big breath, “—so do you want my credit card number now?”

There’s several seconds of silence on the other end before Kageyama, understandably, goes,

_“What?”_

“I, uh.” Shouyou’s tongue passes over his lips and he loosens his death grip on the phone. He breathes in, then out. “I mean... how are you?”

“ _I’m... fine.”_ Kageyama clears his throat. _“What do you want?”_

Shouyou frowns, disappointment and concern building in his chest as he fidgets with the legs of his shorts. “Are you not, um, on duty or whatever?”

 _“No… I am.”_ The other man takes a deep breath.

“Are you alright?” Shouyou asks.

 _“I’m fine,”_ Kageyama says again, flatly.

Shouyou hesitates. He’s horny as fuck, yes, but he’s not so much of an idiot to not hear the edge in Kageyama’s voice. He narrows his eyes.

“You’re lying.”

_“I am not.”_

“You are _too,_ ” Shouyou replies. Then he huffs. He’s not arguing while sporting half of an erection. He’s always been an all-or-nothing kind of guy. “I’m not stupid, you—”

_“Yes you are.”_

Shouyou exhales sharply and glares at the phone.

 _“Sorry, I…”_ Kageyama takes another deep breath. _“I had a weird… night.”_

“Like, bad weird? Is your cat sick?”

_“I—what?”_

“You have a cat, right?”

_“No—I mean, yeah—why would your mind go there?”_

“I don’t know.”

_“You’re a fucking weirdo, you know that?”_

“I am not!”

Kageyama breathes a sudden laugh, and Shouyou smiles.

 _“Alright, so what are you looking for tonight?”_ Kageyama slips into his business tone so seamlessly it makes Shouyou’s stomach flip over, his skin prickling with sudden arousal. But he frowns.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

 _“I promise,”_ Kageyama rumbles so deep and velvety Shouyou forgets his own name. _“So what can I do for you, Hinata Shouyou.”_

Oh yeah, that’s it.

“U-um, well...” Shouyou’s voice scrapes from his dry throat. “I-I guess you could say I had a weird night, too?”

 _“Hm… yeah?”_ Kageyama purrs. _“A night so weird you need to employ my services?”_

Shouyou doesn’t care for the word _services_ , but he’s already leaning back against his pillows.

“W-well, uh, yes, you could, um, say that,” he stammers, “b-but it was pretty much your fault that it got so weird!”

There’s a _sharp_ inhale, and the sound of something bashing against the phone assaults his ear. He sits up abruptly.

“Kageyama!? Hey! Are you okay!?”

There’s a lot of shuffling on the other end of the line, then,

_“Ah—er, um yeah, yes! I just, uh, dropped the phone.”_

Shouyou curls his lip. “Aren’t you supposed to be a professional—”

 _“S-so, uh, what did you, um, mean by that, exactly?”_ Kageyama cuts him off, his voice rushed and taking on a pitch with which Shouyou was previously unfamiliar.

And he finds it _agonizingly_ endearing. He muffles a laugh behind his hand.

“You don’t have to be so embarrassed, Kageyama. I drop my phone all the time—”   

 _“Shouyou. What. Do you mean. That it was my fault?”_ This time Kageyama practically growls at him.

Gulping, Shouyou cowers back against his pillows.

“I just meant that… I um…” Shit. Does Kageyama not want to know that he’s been thinking about him? That seeing an attractive guy made him want to hear his voice? Is that _weird?_ “I-I was just thinking about our calls? Your, um, voice? And I got…” he drops his voice to a whisper, “ _aroused?”_

A long, slow sigh exhale graces Shouyou’s ear.

 _“Jesus, you’re too fucking cute,”_ Kageyama mutters, laughing out of what sounds like relief.

And Kageyama had the gall to call _him_ weird?

_“So how can I help you with that?”_

Shouyou’s body flushes up at another change in the man’s tone, and he remembers what it felt like to be the subject of that steely gaze on the court while Kageyama’s voice shivered through him and the fantasy he cooked up as he fled the gym.

“Ah, w-well, you see,” Shouyou stammers, suddenly awash in humiliation. But Kageyama must hear all sorts of crazy fantasies and get weird-ass requests. So he shouldn’t feel embarrassed about something like _this…_ right? “I was wondering if you could, like, maybe… um…”

Kageyama laughs at him, quiet and deep. _“Come on, Shouyou, you can tell me. I want you to.”_

Shouyou whines and flops back into his pillow nest with a _poof_ , and his free hand magnetizes to the little strip of bare skin between his t-shirt and waistband; he brushes his fingers over it, teasing.

“I should pay you first, right?” he squeaks.

_“Later. Just tell me what you need.”_

“ _Ah_ … I need _you_ , Kageyama,” Shouyou sighs, reveling in the words that fall so effortlessly from his lips.  

_“Mmhm, good boy. Tell me what you want me to do for you.”_

Shouyou lets his hand drift lower and his fingertips brush over the rising fabric. He takes a breath and squeezes his eyes shut.

“I want you to pretend like you follow me into a locker room after a volleyball game and—” he swallows awkwardly, “—f-fuck me super crazy hard!”

A silence follows, and once it becomes too much to bear, Shouyou opens one eye, then another, his heart racing with abject shame. Kageyama thinks he’s gross. Or pathetic. Or way too needy. Can Kageyama tell he hasn’t been fucked in a millennia? He puts a hand over his burning face and groans.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, just ignore—”     

 _“That’s… oddly specific,”_ Kageyama interrupts. Shouyou hears the creaking springs of a mattress as Kageyama either shifts around or sits down on his bed. _“Can I ask… what prompted that?”_

“Is it really that weird?” Shouyou asks, pressing down on his swelling cock and releasing a shaky breath.

_“I didn’t say it was weird. I said it was specific. Is that something that happened to you? In college, maybe?”_

“Um, no, unfortunately. But, you see, well, tonight… there was this guy at the gym, and he—”

 _“Which guy? A guy? Gym? A-a guy at the gym?”_ Kageyama says a little breathlessly.

Shouyou crinkles his brow. “Yeah… a guy, at the volleyball gym. He was… really _really_ hot.”

_“O-oh. That’s… interesting. What did he... this guy, look like?”_

Shouyou moans to himself and his eyes fall shut. “He was _pretty_ , even from far away, you know? Tall, with black hair and the best setter I’ve ever seen—”

Kageyama’s breath catches, but Shouyou’s too lost in his memory to bother with it.

“—and he kept _looking_ at me,” he bites his lip and whines, curling his fingers around his dick. "But why would he want to do that? He was seriously staring super hard, but it was like he didn’t want me to see? It was so.... it made me all _gwahhh_ —”

 _“He wanted you,”_ Kageyama interjects in a deep rush of his voice.

“What?”

 _“I-I mean probably. You’re... gorgeous, Shouyou,”_ the man drops his voice down low and Shouyou’s cock throbs in his hand. For a minute, Shouyou forgot that Kageyama knows what he looks like. His heart races at the words, even though he knows it’s just Kageyama being _damn_ good at his job.

“So will you? Please, Kageyama?”

Kageyama groans. _“Please what, Shouyou?”_

“Fuck me. _Please_.” Shouyou’s head tilts back in the pillows when he gives himself a hard squeeze.

 _“You’re touching yourself already, aren’t you.”_ Kageyama purrs. _“That’s good… I am, too.”_

Shouyou moans and lets his knees fall open as he rubs himself through his shorts, up and down.

_“I just couldn’t take my eyes off you.”_

“What?” Shouyou’s eyes flutter open. But, _duh_ , Kageyama is indulging in his fantasy. “O-oh, yeah. _Ah—_ I couldn’t either.”

 _“I noticed. God, Shouyou… I could see how bad you wanted me. Fuck, I’m so—hard for you.”_ Kageyama’s voice sounds gloriously strained, and the image of the guy from the gym floats up in Shouyou’s mind, only he’s reclined on a bed with his phone pressed to his ear, stroking himself.

If he pretends hard enough, it’s almost as if that setter is the one moaning into his ear.

Shouyou’s hips jerk up off the bed and he leaks into his shorts.

 _“I really did want to follow you—you’re so—fucking_ cute. _”_

“So _do it_ ,” Shouyou whines, he puts his hand down the front of his shorts and gives himself a quick pump. “Come get me.”

Kageyama growls through grit teeth. _“Oh, I will, Shouyou. Get on your knees.”_

Shouyou scrambles up at the command, putting the phone on speaker from muscle memory and dropping it to the bed.

_“Don’t you touch yourself again—until I say so.”_

Shouyou chomps oh the corner of his lip and falls forward to press his cheek to his comforter, just to get closer to that deep voice.

“O-okay,” he breathes. “Please _hurry_.”

_“Maybe I make you wait for it—make you sweat a little—wonder if I’m really coming for you.”_

“You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” Shouyou mewls, his thighs trembling and cock twitching, _begging_ to be touched.

 _Fuck,_  he knows the feeling.

 _“No,”_ Kageyama answers immediately. _“But I have to get across the gym—ah—r-remember?”_

“Mmhm!”

_“I watch you run into the locker room—you’re so blushed—flustered. Desperate for me.”_

“S-sounds about right.” Shouyou reaches a hand beneath him to one of his thighs, tracing a feathery touch over the sensitive skin. He sighs at the contact.

 _“I can’t get to the locker room fast enough—”_ Kageyama swears under his breath, _“—worried—someone else will get to you first.”_

“Just need you—‘yama. Only—you—”

_“Are you touching yourself again, Shouyou?”_

Shouyou snaps his hand from between his legs. “No!”

 _“Can’t wait for me, huh?”_ The smirk on Kageyama’s lips is audible. _“Maybe you don’t need me at all.”_

“NO!” Shouyou shouts. “I-I do! I need you… I do. Please!”

_“Mmm… good. ‘cause I need you, too—need you—around my dick—to feel how tight and hot you are.”_

Shouyou keens into the comforter as a drop of precum falls from his flushed tip.

_“I’m already hard for you when I throw open the door of the locker room—and you spin around—looking all surprised—ah—Shouyou. I’m picturing your big brown eyes—all scared at first as I come towards you—”_

“Y-you aren’t going to hurt me, are you—Kageyama?” he whimpers, clenching his fists beside his face.

_“Never. And you know it—you moan when I grab you by the arms—spin you around and slam you against the lockers—”_

“More, _more_ ,” Shouyou pants.

_“You can feel how hard I am for you—against your perfect ass. I grind against you, hard—showing you what you do to me.”_

“K-Kage—can I…?”

_“Yes, Shouyou, touch yourself—feel me against you—how badly I want you.”_

Shouyou bleats a pained sound of relief and reaches up and back, dragging his fingers over the cleft of his ass over his shorts.

 _“Hah—mm—you feel amazing,_ ” Kageyama moans.

“Feels—so good—” Shouyou’s fingers are a pathetic cry from what is probably a hot, thick cock, but with the image of the guy from the gym firmly planted in his brain and Kageyama’s breath huffing in his ear, it’s _almost_ as good.

_“Just wait—till I give you my dick—for real.”_

“For _real?_ ” Shouyou gasps. “Oh god, yes, _yes—”_     

_“I lean down—you feel my lips on your neck—then my teeth—god, I want to eat you up.”_

Shouyou starts rocking back against his fingers – he hasn’t even entered himself yet, he’s just _that_ desperate.  

_“My hands slide up under the front of your shirt—take your shirt off, Shouyou.”_

He does, quickly, and then falls back to the bed, landing on his back. One hand goes to his mouth and the other smooths over his chest, simulating Kageyama’s hands on him. He sucks on his fingers, rolling his tongue sloppily over his knuckles.

_“Shouyou—what are you doing?”_

“Losing my _mind,_ ” he replies around his fingers. “Sucking on your fingers—I just—I want you—”

 _“Get yourself ready for me,”_ Kageyama growls. _“I need you—now—”_

Shouyou kicks his shorts off in a second flat and spreads his legs, hitching a knee up high and dropping his spit-slicked fingers between his thighs – he cries out to the ceiling when he sinks two fingers in _deep_.

 _“_ Oh— _oh—_ ’yama—I’m— _fuah—”_

Kageyama is panting. _“I’m sliding a finger into you, Shouyou—gonna open you up wide—”_

“Two—” Shouyou cries, “put in—two. _Hurry.”_ ”

This seems to trip Kageyama up. And his voice crumbles a little around the edges.

 _“J-jesus,”_  he stammers. _“No, I-I need to work you open—slowly—you won’t be able to—take me—”_

Shouyou’s back arches and he curls his fingers as deep inside himself as he can. Which isn’t far, but it makes him feel fuller and he sobs a moan, his tongue panting against his bottom lip.

“Give it to me—quick—fill me up—”

 _“You take my fingers so well,”_ Kageyama tells him, _“you’re spreading your legs—wide for me—I can’t wait to be inside you—Shouyou—fuck—”_

The genuine desperation in Kageyama’s voice is winding Shouyou up tighter and tighter, wrecking him slowly from the inside out.

“Bend me over—take me— _now._ ”

 _“No, no—”_ Kageyama laughs, an airy, strained laugh, _“I’m gonna make you ride me—till your pretty legs shake—”_

Shouyou fists at his cock, precum dripping down his knuckles as he pumps his fingers in and out of himself.

“You wouldn’t— _make_ me do anything—I’d sit on your dick—ride you like _crazy_ —”                

_“Oh god—ride me—p-please Shouyou—”_

_“_ Your cock is—so good—I’m so—full _—”_ Shouyou sees stars as he works himself from both sides, picturing his thighs on either side of that fucking setter’s hips, his big hands grabbing at his waist – faltering in his decision to try to slow Shouyou down or let him impale himself over and over, faster and faster, bringing them both closer to a shattering orgasm with every smooth roll of his hips.    

_“Fuck—ah—Sho—I can’t—”_

Shouyou’s eyes roll and his legs tremble as he babbles, loudly.

“Yes yes _yes_ ‘yama oh—god—god—gonna come—all—over you—” This is his life now. He accepts it. It’s too good not to.

_“Come for me—Shouyou—show me—how I make you feel—”_

“Wanna feel you come—inside—shoot it in me—make me yours—”

 _“O-oh god, I’m—”_ Kageyama chokes a high-pitched noise and then gasps, over and over again as he comes.

Shouyou can’t even get a word out before he spurts uncontrollably all over himself, he just sobs a wordless cry, splattering high up on his chest and on his throat with every writhing jerk of his hips, his toes curling as his blood literally pumps pleasure through his veins.

Little moans tremble out of him as he comes back from the ether, dizzy with stars as he blinks the vision back into his eyes.

“Whoa…” he rasps out, swallowing through the dryness that his gasps left behind. “Ka-Kageyama? Are you there?”

He’s answered by heavy breathing, followed closely by a breathless, _“yeah.”_

“That was… amazing,” Shouyou throws an arm over his eyes, focusing on corralling his breathing to a steady rhythm.

 _“Yeah,”_ Kageyama repeats. Shouyou can hear him swallow, after.

Shouyou remembers something and gnaws on his lip for a couple breaths.

“Did you… um, look at my picture again?” He’s immediately ashamed of the question, and the sticky mess coating his torso isn’t helping. And he’s embarrassed by what he wants the answer to be.

And Kageyama laughs a low, tired sound. _“No.”_

Shouyou wilts a little on the bed, his heart pulling tight.

_“The image I have of you in my head is so clear, I don’t need it.”_

God help him, Shouyou grins to himself. His cheeks fill with so much blush they hurt.

Kageyama yawns and hums a soft, sated noise.

“Hey, now. You can’t sleep, you have more customers,” Shouyou scolds quietly.

 _“Hmm… not tonight,”_ Kageyama murmurs. _“You wore me out.”_

“They’ll be disappointed.” Shouyou feels a spark of delight in his stomach.

_“Fuck ‘em.”_

Shouyou giggles.

_“Cute.”_

“So, um… about payment…” Shouyou mumbles, groping around beneath him for his credit card.

 _“No,”_ Kageyama grunts. _“Too tired.”_

“You can’t keep giving me freebies, stupid.”

_“Don’t tell me what I can’t do, dumbass.”_

Shouyou sighs and raises up onto his elbows to survey the damage. “You should offer a clean-up service or something,” he grumbles. “I’m disgusting.”

_“It’s not enough that I get you off, but you want me to mop up your cum, too?”_

Shouyou snorts. “Your customer service is shit.”

_“You’re not a customer.”_

“What am I then?” Shouyou asks absently, reaching for the tissues on his nightstand.

When Kageyama falls silent, Shouyou frowns.

“Kageyama? You there?”

 _“I… don’t know what you are,”_ Kageyama says.

Shouyou isn’t sure what to say to that, or why he asked at all, so he just haphazardly wipes himself off and lobs the tissues in the general direction of the wastebasket. Then he picks up his phone and turns off the speaker.

“I should sleep,” he says, sliding his way beneath the covers.

_“Same.”_

“So… um…” Shouyou covers a tired smile with his hand. “Kiss?”

He awaits the inevitable hangup, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Kageyama laughs softly and says,

_“Goodnight, Shouyou.”_

Shouyou uncovers his smile.

“Goodnight, Kageyama,” he says back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think I'd let Kags spill his secret yet, did you? :3

**Author's Note:**

> If you're looking for more gratuitous use of em dash or aggressively predictable plot lines, come yell at me over on [tumblr :D](http://majesticartax.tumblr.com/)


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